Chapter Twelve
Jack was woken the next morning by a phone call.
"Sid? Sid, it's Phryne Fisher. Now, Sid, come on. No. You didn't mean it then and you don't mean it now. The driveshaft was a goner before I got behind the wheel and you know it. Anyway, I haven't got time for gossip – Sid, can you lend me a motorbike? I've no idea what you mean. Of course it'll come back in one piece."
The next two days were a reminder of the unrelenting dullness of so much police work. Because he was afraid of being recognised himself, Jack could only keep a low profile and watch the comings and goings of the dock workers. The weather was inclement; now and again squalls of rain fell, and a wind blew the newspaper he pretended to read. He rotated between three cafes at differing distances from the dock gates, so as not to draw more attention to his presence than was necessary, and could only ration himself to twenty minutes in each. Although he arrived at first light on the motorbike Phryne had procured for him, just as the first shifts were clocking on, and remained until dark, he saw no-one he recognised.
The reward, though, was in his nights with Phryne. Tasked with finding a solution for the plight of the girls once they were released, she was visiting women's charities and exploring her contacts in the philanthropic world. When he returned to the hotel in the evening – now via a side door chiefly used by the staff of the hotel, to maintain his low profile as far as possible – she was always there, waiting in her room, to enfold him in her arms, pour him a whisky and simply talk. The nights in her bed were heaven, and he tried not to think ahead to what might happen when the time came for him to return to Australia. They understood each other so well in some ways, but in others, not at all; how could he ask such a free spirit to bind herself to him? He couldn't. If she did, she would no longer be the Phryne he knew; if she did not, he would have to live without her; which was unthinkable.
On the third day at the docks he had a breakthrough. A ship docked from the Green Funnel line, and he watched all day as the passengers and their baggage disembarked; cargo was taken from the hold; and at long last, the crew descended the gangplank. A long line of women – the chambermaids – were among them, and a dozen, all similarly dressed, were escorted to a truck waiting on the dockside. Clearly, they suspected nothing; they went calmly to their transport, and helped each other to board. Counting his blessings again – or the particular blessing that was Phryne Fisher and her capacity for forethought that had provided him with the motorbike, he ran to it, started up and followed the truck at a discreet distance.
It headed straight into the west end of London, and the backstreets of Soho. Tailing it became harder, and he was forced to close the gap a little, rather than risk losing it. Eventually, he rounded a corner and stopped abruptly – a pair of tall gates was closing behind it. He thought for a moment, then turned and circled the block in the other direction. Sure enough, as he drove slowly along the adjacent street, the front door of a warehouse building opened, and a giant of a man came out. One glance at him was enough to have Jack returning to the Savoy by the most direct route possible rather than risk alerting his quarry's attention.
He was going to need Phryne's help now, and paced her room impatiently as he waited for her to return.
At last, just before midday, the door opened and she strode in. Seeing him there at such an unexpected time of day, her face lit up. "Jack! Have you found him? Have you got a name?"
"I have," he said grimly. "It's the McCullums, just as the Commissioner suspected. I followed a truckload of Green Funnel chambermaids to a warehouse in Soho – and spotted Lachlan McCullum leaving. Phryne, can you come quickly? If he's just taken delivery of a new shipment of women, he may well be about to arrange payment. We need to tail him in case he goes to his bank, and he knows my face too well. I'm sorry, but I need to ask you to be the one to go in after him."
She didn't hesitate. Snatching up her bag, she moved to the door and held it wide for him.
"Let's go, then, shall we? You know how I love to ride a motorbike …"